Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
KAGE
My chest heaved as panic threatened to consume me. Sammy dead? It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t.
My mind raced with a thousand fragmented thoughts as I steadied myself against a wooden post, trying to catch my breath. The horses shifted nervously in their stalls, sensing my unease.
Two guards stood near the entrance, their backs to me as they conversed in low tones. I froze, my body instinctively pressing against the post.
“She just vanished.” The taller guard gestured wildly with his hands. “One minute she was there, the next gone.”
“We need to find her.” The shorter guard kicked at some hay, sending it scattering across the stable floor. “Lord Sangre will have our hides if we don’t.”
“Maybe she’s got alpha abilities like her father.”
They both erupted into laughter, the sound grating against my already frayed nerves.
“Imagine a female alpha.” The shorter one snorted. “And even if they could be, they don’t get dream demon abilities. Besides, everyone knows the bitch is a null.”
Anger and relief flooded through me so intensely that my knees nearly buckled. Sammy wasn’t dead. She’d escaped somehow. I needed to tell Nico and give him hope before despair consumed him completely.
But Valentino would be coming up the stairs any minute. I glanced back at the trapdoor, my heart pounding against my ribs.
The keys. I had to get the keys.
I moved closer and scanned both guards, looking for any sign of them. Nothing visible on their belts, no bulges in their pockets as far as I could see. But one of them had to have them, and my time was running out.
How was I going to check their pockets without them noticing?
I needed a distraction. Something to get them moving in a way where they wouldn’t notice if I checked their pockets. Also, something to satisfy my innate need for chaos, since they had spoken badly about Sammy.
They were both shifters, and they were notoriously quick to settle their grievances with fists.
It would be the perfect opportunity for me to check for the keys.
And to get punched. But I tried not to think about that risk.
My eyes landed on a horseshoe hanging next to a stall. Perfect.
I crept forward, my invisible fingers wrapping around the cold metal. With a quick flick of my wrist, I sent it sailing through the air. It struck the shorter guard—he’d been the one to call Sammy a bitch—square in the back of the head with a satisfying thud.
He whirled around, eyes blazing. “What the fuck?”
The taller guard’s hand flew to his mouth, poorly concealing his laughter.
“You think this is funny?” The shorter guard’s face flushed crimson as he stalked toward his companion.
I held my breath, watching as the larger guard backed up, hands raised in mock surrender. “I didn’t throw it, you paranoid bastard.”
“Then who did?”
“Maybe a ghost.” The taller guard’s grin widened.
The shorter guard’s fist connected with the other guard’s jaw before I could blink. The taller guard stumbled backward, catching himself on a hay bale before launching himself forward with a snarl.
They crashed together in a tangle of limbs and curses, rolling across the floor. I seized my opportunity, darting forward as they grappled. My hands swept over the taller guard’s hip as he twisted. I ducked beneath a flailing arm and patted down the shorter guard’s belt and every pocket.
Nothing.
They rolled again, and I had to leap back to avoid getting crushed. The shorter guard’s elbow caught the other one in the ribs, and he retaliated with a vicious headbutt that made me wince.
I circled them like a vulture, my fingers checking every inch of their clothing as they fought. Back pockets, chest pockets, the inside of their jackets—nothing, nothing, nothing.
My heart sank into my stomach. They didn’t have the keys.
The sound of the trapdoor opening made my blood run cold.
Valentino emerged from the dungeon, his pristine appearance undisturbed despite having just descended into a cesspit of death and despair. His eyes swept across the room, landing on the two guards currently attempting to murder each other in a pile of hay and horse shit.
“What. Is. This.” Each word dropped like a boulder, and the guards froze mid-punch.
They scrambled apart, both trying to stand at attention while covered in dirt and sporting matching bloody noses. The shorter guard wiped blood from his lip with the back of his hand.
“Sir, we were—”
“I don’t care.” Valentino’s voice could have turned water to stone. “Take two pints from the squirrel for my dinner. I expect it ready within the hour.”
The taller guard’s hand moved to his belt, patting uselessly at empty loops. “I need to retrieve the keys first, my lord.”
Valentino’s jaw tightened, a muscle ticking beneath his perfectly pale skin. “You don’t have them on you?”
“No, sir. They’re with—”
“Is the panther done bleeding out yet?” Valentino cut him off, his tone sharp enough to draw blood.
The guard grunted an affirmative, and I felt my stomach turn over.
Amari. How badly was he hurt?
“And you haven’t moved him?” Valentino’s words dripped with venom. “Am I surrounded by complete incompetents?”
The other guard shuffled his feet, his voice uncertain. “We thought... Lord Val might lose his shit if the panther isn’t nearby when he wakes. He’ll be hungry, and—”
Valentino waved a dismissive hand, the gesture screaming contempt. “He can have the squirrel’s blood instead. I don’t believe he’s ever tasted one. Now get those keys before I decide you’d both make excellent additions to my taxidermy collection.”
The guards fled like rats, leaving me pressed against the wall, invisible and trembling.
They were going to bleed Nico. They had Amari somewhere, possibly dying. Sammy had vanished. Val was potentially the enemy. And I was the only one left who could do anything about it.
I was so utterly fucked.
I ran down the corridor, breath coming in gasps.
The guards had returned with more guards, including a horned demon who towered over the rest, keys dangling from his massive fist. I’d made several attempts to get close, each one riskier than the last. The final time, his head snapped in my direction, nostrils flaring.
I’d barely escaped, pressing myself into a stall next to a horse as he stomped past, sniffing like a predator.
This wasn’t working. I needed a new plan.
Val. I needed to find Val.
If what Valentino said was true, Val was recuperating somewhere in this mansion. Maybe he could help—if he wasn’t the enemy. The uncertainty made my stomach twist, but what choice did I have?
I crept through the hallways of the estate, ducking into rooms whenever I heard footsteps. The mansion was a maze of opulent rooms and darkened corridors. Paintings of vampires stared down from the walls, their eyes seeming to follow me.
Voices drifted from a partially open door ahead. I slowed, my back pressing against the wall as I inched closer.
I froze once I was close enough, barely daring to breathe as the voices inside grew clearer.
“Taylor is growing impatient.” The unfamiliar voice held a note of caution. “He wants to enact the full range of plans immediately.”
My brow furrowed. Taylor? Who the hell was Taylor?
“Taylor will have to wait like the rest of us.” Valentino’s voice was dismissive. “These things cannot be rushed.”
“With all due respect, my lord, he’s becoming more... insistent.”
A heavy silence filled the room, and I imagined Valentino fixing the man with one of his bone-chilling stares.
“How many are we up to?” Valentino’s question broke the quiet.
“We hit a small village of fire demons last night. That puts us at approximately two hundred and fifty.”
My stomach lurched. Two hundred and fifty what? People? Prisoners?
“We need more.” Valentino’s voice hardened. “Double the effort. I want at least five hundred before I allow him to move forward.”
“My lord, if I may... are you certain you’re going about this the right way? Vacants aren’t meant to be controlled.”
Vacants?
My blood ran cold. Two hundred and fifty vacants? They had an army of soulless demons, drained of their light?
“How else do you suggest I keep the crown once it’s upon my head?” Valentino’s question slithered through the air like a venomous snake. “Power requires sacrifice.”
“Of course, my lord.” The man’s voice trembled slightly. “I have concerns about Taylor. He seems a bit... unstable. And now that Reve has renounced, he is the rightful heir.”
My heart nearly stopped. Taylor Luna? Sammy’s brother? The one who’d been presumed dead?
“Your concerns are noted and unnecessary. A blood oath keeps him in line. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement. We both get what we want.”
My mind raced. If Taylor was alive and working with Valentino to help him become king... what did he want? What did he want badly enough to give up his birthright and commit such a heinous crime?
An approaching servant sent me scurrying across the hall as he knocked and waited before stepping into the room. “My lord, the meal is nearly ready. Would you like it served in the dining room?”
“The dining room will be fine. Set a place for my son.”
I didn’t wait to hear more.
If Valentino was plotting to take the throne and Taylor Luna was involved, Val might be the only one who could help us—assuming he wasn’t part of the conspiracy.
I slipped through the estate, checking rooms and dodging servants. Most of the bedrooms were empty and immaculately kept, with beds that looked untouched. I was beginning to lose hope when I walked through a door at the end of a darkened hallway and froze.
Val was sprawled across a massive four-poster bed. His normally perfect hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and his skin had a grayish tinge.
He didn’t stir as I moved closer. His eyes were tightly shut, and his face was contorted in pain.
“V-Val?” My voice was barely a whisper.
No response.
I reached out, my hand hovering over his shoulder. Should I try to wake him? What if he was loyal to his father? What if he’d been playing Sammy all along?
But what if he wasn’t?
My fingers inched closer, then pulled back as Val groaned, his head turning restlessly on the pillow.
“Sammy... Amari… please…” The names escaped his lips in a pained whisper.
I froze, watching as his fingers clutched at the sheets, his breath growing more labored.
“Don’t... go...”
I retreated, needing time to think. Val was in no condition to help anyone, and I couldn’t risk waking him until I was certain where his loyalties lay.
And until I was certain he wouldn’t immediately drain me.
While I wrestled with my indecision, my eyes traveled around the room. Dust was on every surface, and it looked as if it hadn’t been cleaned in a very long time.
My fingers twitched with the need to tidy up. Under normal circumstances, I would have resisted because I wasn’t bound to Val, but cleaning his space would replenish my magic.
I started with the desk, carefully organizing papers and closing books. The dust made my nose itch, but not in a sneezing kind of way. It was a warning that this room might give me too much magic.
As I worked, I glanced periodically at Val, watching for any sign he might wake. His condition worried me, yet Valentino expected him at dinner?
I noticed an old journal tucked beneath the bed, its leather binding cracked with age. I hesitated before picking it up, my curiosity warring with respect for privacy. In the end, curiosity won. I needed any information that might help us escape.
The journal fell open to a page marked with a pressed black rose. The handwriting was messy, with splotches blurring some words as if raindrops had fallen on the page.
Today my father told me he will have to kill Mother. She is too far gone to bloodlust. He spoke as if we were discussing putting down a rabid wolf rather than his wife. I saw right through his paper-thin mask over what I suspect is pure agony.
How can what gives us our life also be the very thing that can take it? How can the same crimson elixir have driven my mother to madness? I remember when she taught me to play the piano, her fingers graceful as falling petals over the keys.
Now those same hands claw at her own skin, my father, and me. Will I one day end up like her? I search for the same hunger in my eyes. Sometimes I think I see it there, waiting.
I’ve started counting how many times I think of blood each day. Is thirty normal? Fifty? When does awareness become an obsession? When does an obsession become bloodlust?
The splotches weren’t raindrops—they were tears.
I snapped the journal shut, and I stood motionless, feeling like an intruder. This had been Val’s childhood room, where a boy had once counted his thoughts of blood and watched his mother descend into madness.
It’s no wonder so many demons had wanted house mages dead. We were thieves of privacy and indiscretion, slipping into their most sacred spaces, touching their possessions, and uncovering their secrets.
I’d become the unwilling archaeologist of Val’s past, piecing together a life from artifacts he never intended anyone to see. The thought made my fingers tremble as I returned the journal to its hiding place.